Albert
by F22-Fan
Summary: The story of Albert Genette, the narrator of Ace Combat 5.


**Albert: Genette's Story**

A Fanfic by F22Fan

**Prologue**

There are events that affect each generation. These events can be wars, famine, pestilence—history always has something in store. My grandfather had World War 2; my parents: President Kennedy's assassination.

These events are littered throughout history, and affect our world in ways that we cannot imagine.

Generations use these events to identify themselves—to mark their place in history, in time. Some are lucky enough to witness these events, these events that change the world. I remember my generation's event well because, you see, 15 years ago, there was a war…

* * *

It was one of those warm June days in which it seemed that nothing could go wrong. The birds were singing, the sky was blue, the sun was shining, all seemed well with the world.

But, unfortunately, it was not—I was stuck in Mr. Nei's, our Eursian teacher's "Osean History 11 CP" class at my local high school, staring out the window at the beautiful day, longing to enjoy it. We, that is, my classmates and I, were watching the allies advance into Belka, live on the TV. Mr. Nei said this was "an important day in Osean history." At the time, I didn't care.

The war had been progressing smoothly ever since the initial shock at the Belkan's sudden aggression, six months ago during the winter of 94'. At first, they pushed back our armies, underpowered and under-manned, but we slowly fought back. Through blood, sweat and tears, our armies pushed the Belkans back to their own border. Today, June 6, 1995, was the day we our Allies would make the final push into the Belkan mainland.

This was an important day for all of Osea; little did I know how important it would be for me personally, and even more so for the rest of the world..

I was watching the TV with disinterest: I had never liked war. About to fall asleep on my desk and wait for the lunch bell to ring, Mr. Nei snapped his fingers and motioned to the TV.

I continued to watch with indifference. Some field reporter was standing near the front lines, crouching behind a military vehicle. She was talking qui Explosions were heard and seen in the distance. Some GI's ran by the reporter, looking for cover.

"Yes, yes, I have just had this confirmed," the reporter said, "The Yuktobanian 2nd Infantry division has just crossed into Belkan territory, their current position being 5 miles East of us." Another explosion went off, this time no more than 500 yards from the reporter. She crouched and turned around, looking for the source. More sporadic "It appears we are under heavy fire," she said.

_Well, I could have told you that_, I thought.

On the TV, a man run up to the reporter, and gave her a note, he quickly left the screen. "This just in, this unit, the Osean 121st Infantry Unit is preparing to enter Belka, and three other units, all West of our current position, have already made it into Belkan territory." An MP came up to her.

"Miss please leave the area!" he said.

"Wait, let us…" she didn't finish her sentence.

The roar of planes overhead could be heard. The reporter looked up, and a barrage of air-to-ground missiles hit 600 yards to the left of her position, followed by a massive shockwave the knocked both her and the cameraman off their feet. The picture went black, and then there was static, but only for a brief moment. The picture came in again as the cameraman lifted the camera off the ground, focused it on the reporter.

"We're going to get out of here, uh back to you…"

The TV suddenly had a really high contrast, followed by going black, yet again. There was a murmur that went around my classroom. Nervous and questioning glances were exchanged. The TV again showed a picture: our local news station's main anchors, sitting at the News desk. They were obviously confused at what happened, too.

"There appears to have been a technical error, but we'll-" he was interrupted by a technician who handed him a piece of paper. Then, an oddly disconcerting and almost terrifying thing occurred: his face went white. "Um, ladies and gentlemen, we have received word that six, I repeat six, nuclear bombs have been detonated in Belkan territory, and as far as we know, our men have taken severe casualties. Three companies haven't responded since the bombs detonated."

He continued to talk. I stared in disbelief: I had just witnessed the deaths of thousands, from those GI's on the TV to the reporter. Many of my classmates were shocked, a few of the girls were crying, and I don't blame them.

In that act of supreme hatred, Belka had changed the course of history, and indirectly, my future.

I will never forget that day, for it determined what I wanted to do with my life.

As I said earlier, I hate war; but that determination put on by the reporter, along with my increased desire to find out what happened there, I decided to become a field reporter myself. This desire I had to find out, expose, and then tell the world truth.

There are events that change generations. Thisevent did just that.


End file.
